Fili and Kili say goodbye
by HobbitOfRohan
Summary: The battle is over, and Fili is dying. But he has one last thing to tell Kili.


Kili looked out over the world as the first rays of sun touched the mountains, tainting them bronze. He shivered in the cold morning air. The smell of the campfire from the distant man campfires tickled his nose. Silently, Fili joined him.

Kili didn't look at Fili. He felt his brother's powerful presence. Fili gulped down the dark sadness in his gut. He looked at his younger brother.

"Beautiful day, Kili." he mumbled. "It's a good omen, isn't it."

"Yes." Kili kept looking away. Fili turned to leave. "Fili?" Kili's voice stopped him. "Are we going to die?"

"I don't know what's going to happen, brother." Kili nodded quietly. Fili turned away so his brother couldn't see the tears rolling down his cheeks. Far away, the sound of orcs pierced the morning.

Hours passed, and the day grew fuller. Finally, the sound of Thorin entered the room. "Armor. Get in the armor, soldiers." he grunted, staring down at them, a mad malice in his eyes. Balin cast him an odd look.

"Sorry, laddies." rumbled Dwalin, picking up a chest plate. His voice was gruff, but his eyes soft with worry. "Put this on." he thrust the chest plate at Oin, sharing a brief look with him. Ori picked up the heavy chain metal that was way to big for him. His sad eyes filled with tears.

Fili watched in a sad horror as his friends and family put on the armor that covered their body. They shouldn't be in armor. They shouldn't be fighting for their lives because of some dumb ambition of his blind uncle. These, kind, innocent dwarves were being suited up to go to war. A war they didn't have to fight. And they were scared. He could see it in their deep eyes. But their duty was to their leader. And they were dwarves. They wouldn't back down, and he knew it. That would be their fate.

He felt the steady hand of Nori on his shoulder. Fili lowered his head as the dwarves climbed into the armor. Their fate.

"Will you have peace? Or war?" shouted Bard, up to the battlement. And in a voice that roared like thunder, Thorin answered.

"WAR."

Dori shook. That dreaded word. He could not back down now. Once a dwarf declares war, he goes to war. He pulled at his beard anxiously, looking over at Oin who sadly looked back. They had a much deeper understand of what was happening than Fili and Kili or Ori. This was war. For them, war was a beautiful thing. Bloody, but beautiful. A chance to show their bravery, and come home triumphant. But Dori knew otherwise. He had been in war. It is not the glorious thing it is made out to be. Far away, trumpets sounded.

Ori's hands shook as he watched the battle below. Dwarves, men, elves, goblins, orcs... Nori lay a heavy hand on his shoulder. The metal armor weighed down the old dwarf's shoulder. Tears sparkled in his eyes. "You are young, Ori. If..." he gulped. "If you get home... Tell Gimli I love him." Ori nodded, eyes wide. His heart beat violently. He was in a battle. A real battle. He could die.

"Where is Thorin?" asked Bofur suddenly. Bifur shrugged.

"There he is!" called Kili, stepping forward, making eye contact with his uncle who had just stepped into the light. Kili's face scrunched in anger as he yelled "I WILL NOT SIT BACK WHILE OTHER PEOPLE FIGHT OUR BATTLES FOR US!" Thorin looked back and it looked to Bifur as if his eyes had changed. A noble light came into them. Thorin was back.

Bombur smiled. Thorin. His king. His king was going to lead him into battle one last time.

Fili ran, heavy armor clunking into his side as he charged behind his uncle. Before him stretched the ever widening expanse of the battle field. The screams of dying dwarves mingled with the shouts of war maddened elves. Orcs ran like rats, swiping the legs off of unsuspecting victims. 13 dwarves against the foulest beings on earth.

The clash of swords rattled the dwarves' teeth as they struck out at the enemies surrounding them. Tall elves leapt over dwarves, gracefully shooting down the charging ranks as the shorter race cried loudly and fearlessly charged the rank. Bifur brought down his weapon with a clang, sending a jolt up his arms as the head of a goblin flew from its shoulders. Balin fought beside him, his sword swinging with deadly accuracy.

Kili and Fili silently slipped into the mist and across the frozen river. They were scouting, just sent out by Thorin. Up, up they went, spiraling into the hold where Azog had just been. Peering around the corner, Fili instructed Kili ro search the upper levels, and Kili, uncertian, turned.

Fili followed the tightly twisting maze, feet barely making a sound. Tears glistened in his eyes, but he kept moving forward. The sounds of orcs far away made his heart thump faster, and he prayed that Kili was safe.

Suddenly, silence fell. And then the far away beating of drums. Red began to glow on the walls. Orcs were coming. Fili's senses hightened and he turned. No, no escape that way. He turned to the passage to the side of him. Maybe...

But the orcs were shouting from over there too. No. No escape. The only thing he could do was go forward. And that is what he did. He ran.

His mouth opened in a battle cry, and he drove his sword into an orc as he rounded the corner. It squealed and fell. He hit another. And another. And still another. He reared back to plant a sword in a goblin's chest, but something gripped him. Around the neck. Cold, bloody finger nails dug into his throat, cutting off his breath. The pale orc lifted him.

The orc drug him. Drug him for what seemed like hours, Fili struggling for breath, until they reached the edge of a cliff. The dizzing hight made his head spin. But what he saw made him even more dizzy. Relief and terror. It was Kili, Thorin, and Dwalin. They were alive. But orcs were coming. They had to leave! In a flash, Fili saw his childhood again. Him and Kili were chasing bees. Dwalin and Thorin bringing home a deer for supper. The sun shining like it would never stop.

Far away, he heard his brother cry out. And a soft music entered his ears. Peace. Peace from Aule.

His legs swung helplessly above the precipice, and all he could see was his family below. Eyes locked on them, he opened his mouth. But a blade struck him before he could. He gasped as red flooded his vision. The blade drove deeper into his belly, the life struggling. The pain came in bright flashes, tears welling. And in his dying mind, one word formed. As his eyes closed on the image of his uncle, brother, and friend, a word formed in his drying mouth. "Go."

And he fell.

Kili was insane. Insane with anger. Insane with loss. And insane with the empty feeling that was eating him from the inside out. How could he live. How could he live without Fili. _Take me with you. _his mind screamed. _Brother... DON'T GO. _In his anger, Kili ran. He struck down orcs until he was alone with Tauriel. But he had no time to think. Bolg was there.

The ugly brute scowled at him, and leapt. Kili brandished his weapon. He would fight until he died. He would fight until he could die with honor. Tauriel fought behind him, bright red hair flowing. He swung and dodged with deadly prescision. But Bolg was strong. He leapt onto his shoulders. All Kili remembered was the heat of skin, weapons, anger and the metalic taste of blood in his mouth. And inside rage powered him.

Tauriel expertly fought, trying to help him when suddenly.

HIs throat was gripped. Bolg held him down. Kili struggled crazily. But the orc was too strong. The hot rage that had powered him was fading like the sun before a winter storm. And he made the descision. He was going to die. He had to die. He had to die for Fili. For Thorin. For Tauriel. For Erebor. He went limp. And a knife hit his chest with a force stronger than he imagined. As his eyes clamped down, a tear rolled down his cheek. A tear for all he would leave behind. Bolg drove the weapon into him again. Kili gasped and his mouth went dry.

Bolg dropped him and ran.

Kili didn't know how long he waited. His mind flitted on the verge of death. He wanted to die. He wanted to see Fili again. But it was a good thing he waited. A very good thing. Because after a long time, he heard a scraping. A shuffling, a heavy breathing. Fili was coming. Fili dragged himself to Kili. He had made it. He had used his last breath of life to reach his brother.

"Kili." he clutched his brother's head in his arms. "Kili are you awake?"

"F-Fili?"

"KILI! I'm" he coughed. "I'm here. You don't need to worry." Fili struggled for breath as he lay down beside his brother.

"I knew you would come..." managed Kili. "You wouldn't leave me alone."

"Of course not." Fili held his brother's head close and kissed his brow. "I would never leave you, brother."

"Are we going to die, Fili?"

"Yes."

"Is it going to hurt?"

"Nothing hurts as long as we are together." Fili said, the tears creating paths down his bloodied face.

"Good." Kili had tears running down his as well.

"I'm going to miss Thorin. And Dwalin. And mom. And Oin, Gloin, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Nori, Dori, Ori, Balin..." Fili sighed. "But we have to be brave for them."

"And I'll miss Bilbo. We both will, won't we Fili. Silly hobbit... So brave to help us..." He trailed off.

"I hope he makes it back home." another cough caused blood to bubble over his lips.

"Goodbye, Fili." he whispered.

"This is not goodbye, brother. I will see you in a moment, in the halls of our fathers." Kili nodded drearily.

"See you soon then."

"Yes."

"Goodnight, brother."

"Goodnight. Morning will come soon."

And by some merciful chance of fate, they breathed their last in unison. And fell out of this world together.


End file.
